short story

     Hey, Hon.

     Boo is asleep. Don’t know what to do with myself for another night. Realizing now how much we used to text during the day, but still can’t get a signal, so I’ll just jot you some notes & you can read them when you get home.
     Not sure what to say. Finally took down Xmas decorations, put everything in garage storage. You’re right about making separate bins for Halloween & Thanksgiving crap.
     When you come home you’ll notice SOMEBODY raked the ENTIRE yard. Boo tried to help with the little yellow rake your mom got him, but then just ran & stomped through the piles. He laughed so much & for one moment things felt perfect. Remember when things were normal? I wish you could’ve been here.
     Boo was asking, “Mama? Mama?” I told him Mama’s at work, that Mama’s a doctor & in big emergencies like this one, all the doctors need to help at the hospital. I said, “Mama home soon.” He did that thing where he points at his wrist, like he’s wearing a watch. Where did he learn that? Did you teach him that?
     While bagging the piles of leaves, I saw that guy who bought the big house behind us. He was on his balcony, wearing just a robe even though it’s cold. He had a rifle on a strap over his shoulder and was drinking from a coffee mug. Texas gun nuts! Crazy. I waved to him & Boo waved too. But he didn’t wave back. Just kept staring up the road toward downtown.
     Power is still out and it’s getting dark.
     Miss u, love u.

     Hey, Hon.
     Trying to make use of all this time off work. I got a lot done this week. I fixed the cabinet under the sink, put a new latch on the back gate, and edged all the windows with caulk. You’ll be proud. I talked you into buying a house on this busy city street, instead of that big one out by the Garzas. The least I can do is make it nice.
     Side note: Mr. & Mrs. Nguyen went looking for gasoline & got attacked by some people. Someone bit Mr. Nguyen on the head & he needs stitches. They came here looking for you. I had to tell them you’d help if you were home & then explained the doctor situation, how you’re on the ride-out team. They said it’s dangerous for you to be at the hospital. I told them security’s pretty good at those places. Guards, ID badges, etc.
     Boo had a can of tuna for dinner. You said he should eat vegetables, but all the fresh produce is gone & without power, everything in the freezer has spoiled. I’m trying to ration the canned stuff you bought. You were right about Costco.
     After dinner I read him the potty book & Pete the Cat, but he was doing that wrist-pointing thing, so we used the last of my phone’s battery watching videos of you.
     He cried himself to sleep while I watched the Nguyens pack their van & drive away.
     Hope you’re OK.

     Hey, Hon.
     Finally painted the accent wall. Took all week. Not sure it’s the color you wanted. It came out sort of dark amber. Maybe we left the cans in the garage too long? Yes, I used primer. Anyway, I think you’re gonna like it.
     Boo got into my paint tray & made a mess. Bad timing: no running water, so I had to dip into our supply to clean him up.
     I was worried about Boo & the paint fumes, so I opened the patio doors. This guy shows up, asking for food. He’s coming inside, so I tell him no. But then he sees Boo & gets this look I don’t like. I shove him back outside. On the patio I grab the heavy metal spatula off the grill. It has a serrated edge & I swing it at the guy, but he’s got a knife somehow & he’s coming at me. Boo is screaming, but I can’t see him & this guy is slicing at me & all I can think is that if you were here it’d be OK because his guy would kill me but Boo would be with you & so he’d be safe. But then the guy’s head opens up & he falls down. I look up & that neighbor is on his balcony, still in his robe, looking down the sights of his rifle. He shoulders the gun & goes into his house.
     Why don’t we have a gun?
     Hope you come home soon.

     Hey, Hon.
      There’s been smoke over the city for days. I can hear screaming a few streets away. Not like one person. Like a lot. Like war cries.
     This house isn’t safe. People will come here looking for food, supplies. They’re going to kill me and take our boy. I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen to him.
     I don’t know what to do. I looked through the medicine cabinet for something that would do it. I could give him all the Tylenol, sneak it into his food, but I don’t know if it will be enough or just make him sick. My wife is a doctor & could tell me, but she’s not here. Why aren’t you here? Why are you helping other people instead?
     Come home.

      Hey, Hon.
     I’m sure you’re doing the right thing, wherever you are. It’s why I married you.
     I was thinking about our honeymoon. Yellowstone was so cold at night & you said the best way to stay warm was to get naked & share the same sleeping bag. I still think you made that up.
     Got the backpack & tent from garage. Packed food. Put two sweaters on Boo. Got Pete the Cat & potty book. Spatula. Heading out.
     I’ll do my best. I promise.
     Come find us, my darling.